You know, I started to do some serious thinking
Uhhhumm, a rare moment indeedy : thinking YES, serious NO
I bet most writers plan their blog writing.
Well, not me. I am one of those “fly by the seat of your pants” kinda gals.
Yesterday was no exception. Well, except I flew by the seat of my pants from the tree house.
The tree house held me ransom for a day.
Grabbed a hold of me yesterday.
It needed to.
I have heard of hump-day Wednesday but yesterday was crap-day Tuesday. I would insert some very large potty mouth words in there but I don’t want to scar you.
No – not SCARE….SCAR.
I would be pardoning my french for days, maybe even for weeks on end with my *!%# language.
Yes, I am IN THE FORT.
Much, I am sure, like Elvis. For those of you as OLD AS ME…you will remember… “Elvis is in the building”. Well, “Lynne is in the tree house “
Two differences :
Come on – he was ELVIS after all. I have no illusions of such grandeur.
I am still in the tree house and I MAY NEVER LEAVE. At least Elvis left the building.
So here I am ( in my so-called low tech~ no tech zone )
~ Seeking Refuge ~
~ Taking a Breather ~
Need to seek refuge somewhere? Join me IN THE HOUSE
We all need that refuge.
Been there, done that, and I have the tree fort poster.
Come join me.
Note: It can be HAIRY out there, but not in here.
~ TREE FORT HAVEN ~
We all have those days where you seriously contemplate spiking your coffee. K, I didn’t do that. Does it count if I THOUGHT about it? Cause I did. I mean, I sat there, looking over these almost dead flowers thinking….
“Bailey’s would taste really nice in my coffee right now”
I kid you not.
Ok – Ok – I kid – I kid
I had illusions that if I had in fact spiked my coffee, I may have felt all warm and fuzzy like this….
Confession: If I had the goods, I would have mixed it. I officially have the worlds best recipe for homemade Bailey’s. A friend of mine that I have known since GRADE 7 gave me her WORLD FAMOUS RECIPE. Seriously, THAT kind of recipe is pretty top drawer. I would need to be looped on Bailey’s and bribed~ but I may divulge the recipe to you ~ Do you want the recipe?
There, the secret is out of the closet. My Bailey’s birds are chirpin’.
On to the tree house. You can take the designer out of the house, but you can not take the interior designer out of the gal. I think I have a photography addiction. Serious problem. I want to have my camera surgically attached. Can’t let go of it. It is like taking candy from a kid.
Big NO NO NO.
MY TUESDAY CRAPPY DAY
Put on the fleece pajamas’. Yup, the ugly kind that you pray to Gawd that no one will ever see you in.
Wore the big fuzzy slippers. You know the kind. The ones that you should not be wearing past the age of 6.
Poured some really nice coffee and DREAMED ENDLESSLY about my contemplated Bailey’s spike.
My imagination is much wilder than my reality.
I ventured my way over to the tree house.
Half drunk in my thoughts of Bailey’s.
See, even the thought of it is exciting.
In the moments it took to walk to the tree house, my mind, heart and soul settled into TREE HOUSE mojo.
~ A MUCH NEEDED MOMENT ~
Made my way up these steps. They are still in progress, but they still rock in my books.
That is the “designer in me” talking…
not the “out of her mind on a crappy Tuesday” gal talking.
I contemplated doing the big fat crazy walk UP the slide. Remember the days of wild-wild west SLIDE-VILLE ? A.k.a walking up the slide, hands holding on to the sides, hanging on for dear life.
Well, that pretty much equalled my day.
I have it nailed. Nailed to the wall.
THE TREE HOUSE IS THE BEST RETREAT IN THE WORLD.
In my ideal world, I think everyone should have one.
It made everything wrong into right again.
Still in the TREE HOUSE.
Best sleep ever
Everything that went wrong in my world yesterday, is right again.
So now you have it, Wednesday will be a good day.
- Up In the Tree House with a Friend (lynneknowlton.com)